Maybe all that it required was a bit of mind over matter, but even as Sawyer started stirring in the back of his mind, he wouldn't put the gun down. It was like being trapped in another body, barely hanging onto awareness, and in spite of Sawyer being who he was, never heeding the directions of another, always choosing to do whatever the hell he wanted, he found that he no longer had control. That acid burning through his chest, it wouldn't let him put the gun down.

"I'm sorry," he whispered then, pulling the trigger back viciously as the air suddenly smelled of gunpowder and red splattered all over the wall. Even if Helen might not have felt a thing, all Sawyer saw was red, and he turned to head right back to his room, gun still in hand.